


A Madness Most Discreet

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Bounty Hunters, Enemies to Lovers, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, IG-11 isnt either, Kuiil isnt dead, Mando is a Dom, Mando is tired, Multi, Not canon but canon universe?, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Youre mouthy, still coping with tros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:47:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21977572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It should be a simple task; Find the Mandalorian, eliminate him. And then, cash in.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 49
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Epilogue

Nevarro's sun had already set when you dared out of your Hideout. Not many people were left on the streets and a soft breeze let your cape flutter behind you. Your trusty rifle you had left behind, trying to spare some attention. Instead, a heavy set of knives was fixed around your thigh, digging into the flesh of your leg just enough to remind you of it at all times.

The metal sole of your boots clacked against the undusted stairs of the cantina, announcing your presence. As you entered, the laughter and chatter of it stilled. The red inner of your cape and patch on your shoulder spoke volumes. Ignoring everyone's curious glances, you settled at the back, kicking your feet up on the table.   
It was only a matter of time now. When he would finally show up, you were going to make quick work of it. It should be a simple task; Find the Mandalorian, eliminate him. And then, cash in.


	2. A Preserving Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looked beautiful and terrible at once. Like a wild rose blooming in the middle of raw war.

The dusty cantina of Nevarro wasn't one of your preferred places to be. It stank of beer and gore. The people were old, wasting their time. 

By the time your bounty finally shows up, you're already nursing your third drink, eyes still sharp and watchful, your fingers twirling around one of your knives. Just as you were about to order for another one, the rusty door of the cantina hissed open. There he was, his armor glistening proud in the dimmed light, his cape ripped and blood-stained. He looked beautiful and terrible at once. Like a wild rose blooming in the middle of raw war.

The dark visor of his helmet didn’t give away anything, though you felt his lingering gaze at the back of your head. The Mandalorian sat down, not far from you. With a quick hand, you let your blade disappear in the strap on your thigh and threw the remains of your drink back, the alcohol burning pleasantly down your throat. As you slowly rise from your seat, you catch the reflection of his beskar armor in the corner of your eye. Atta boy, you mutter under your breath. 

It did not take him half as long as you expected, to round the corner behind the cantina. You watched as he walked, spying on him at the top of a nearby roof. With a lick of your lips, you readied yourself for assault. Knuckles bound and knives ready, face concealed by the hood of your cape. You dropped to the ground, crouching low. The sound of your feet hitting solid echoes through Nevarros streets.

Within a second the Mandalorian snaps around, reaching behind his back for his Amban Rifle, ducking behind cover. From your spot behind a pillar, you could practically see the wheels turning in his helmeted head. You knew, your only chance to overthrow him would be in close combat, his beskar armor making it impossible to do any actual damage from afar.  
The Mandalorian had yet to spot you, so you took the opportunity, and, with the quietest of steps, you sneaked upon him.

With a smooth slide, you kicked the Mandalorians legs out from under him, your gloved fist meeting the thick metal of his chest plate. He collapses to his knees and drops his rifle, but gets up quickly enough. The Mandalorian draws a smaller blaster from his belt, so do you, and you're circling each other, blasters pointed. The huntress and her prey. Suddenly, a metal rope shoots from his arm, intertwining with your blaster and making it fly right out of your hand. Taking advantage of your shock, he lands a solid kick to your stomach, and with a wince, you land on the rough stone of the floor. Before he gets the chance to kick you in the face you pull the knives from your thigh. With a frustrated growl, you roll over and kick up from the floor, landing on your feet. At his obvious advantage, he cocks his head. That is until you start throwing the knives, each clanging loudly against his beskar shielded arms and chest. While Mando tries to dodge and fend off your knives, you rapidly approach him. Only one knife remaining in your hand, you spin, meaning to stab its blade right through the Mandalorians only vulnerable spot, the exposed space between his neck and shoulder.

But he's quick. Way too quick. Before you get your spin off, he has you pinned with your back right to his armored front. Your hand he has pinched uncomfortable tight, forcing you to drop your knife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment wishes for future chapters, please.


	3. A Fire Sparkling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Look around. Everyone hates you, Mando. "

The clunk of your knife on the stony ground was loud in the quiet of the night and made you cringe. The faint click sound coming from behind you confirmed what shouldn’t have happened. You felt the cold rim of his blaster dig into your skull and almost groaned out loud at your stupidity.

"Who are you?"

You had no wish to answer the Mandalorian's question.   
Your head felt heavy, making it impossible for you to form a clear response or any kind of plan that could get you out of this rather hairy situation. The only thing that fell from your dry lips was a sighed, “fuck”.

Grabbing your shoulder, he spun you around. The sight of the Mandalorians T-Visor staring right back at you shouldn’t have made you as nervous as it did.

Without taking his loaded blaster from your head, he spoke.   
“I won’t ask again. Who are you?”

You huffed out a wry laugh. “As if I’d tell you.”

A bold move. But at this point, you were sure that sooner or later there’d be a hole in your head and there was nothing you could do about it. The Mandalorian sighed at your disobedience and pressed his blaster harder into the side of your skull and you winced at the headache it caused.

“Who sent you?” He asked instead, almost as if he was respecting your choice to not speak your name.

“No one. I work on my own.”

“Who has a bounty on my head?” You laughed at this and he gave you a tilt of his head, throwing an annoyed look that was obvious even through the thick of his mask.

“No one, nobody." You deadpan, finally.   
"Look around. Everyone hates you, Mando. You’re the best anyone could hire for their contracts and you know it. Those other members of that little guild you’re in, they can’t stand you. They want you dead, and your head on their table could’ve bought me my ticket out of here.”

The Mandalorian paused after your explanation, as if he was processing the new piece of information you had laid out bare for him. With an exaggerated sigh, he rips a piece of fabric from his belt and binds your wrist together, it's uncomfortable tightness making you itch with nervousness.  
“Let’s go,” he pushes, his blaster still at the back of your head, “you’re coming with me to my ship.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope yall enjoyed. :)


	4. A Choking Gall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mandalorians head tilted down a bit and you realized that he had just now recognized the patch on your shoulder.

You were surprised that the Mandalorian didn’t force you to take off your hood. He hadn’t asked for your name again either. As he escorted you to his ship, one hand around your bound wrists, the other holding his blaster to your head, you could hear the hilt of your knife clacking against his belt. It didn’t calm you, knowing that he took it with him, but you were glad that he hadn’t left it for someone else to find.

It wasn’t a long walk to his ship and you were relieved when you finally reached it. The Mandalorian had hit one of your ribs, maybe even sprained it, which made breathing very hurtful. His ship was a big gunship and, you realized, once a military craft. The Mandalorian pushed you further into the ship, to the cockpit where he sat down. You were left awkwardly standing behind him, wrists still tied together. After about five minutes of him not starting the engine and you hesitating, he sighed, “Sit".

With a stiff nod that he couldn’t see anyways, you let yourself down on one of the seats that were positioned behind the pilot. The Mandalorian had his back to you and you couldn't see what he was doing, but it was clear to you anyway. He was typing slowly, as if unsure how to proceed and the blue shimmer of a hologram mirrored on his armor. All too often his fingers would freeze over the keys and his breath would come out in long sighs. You decided to have mercy on him.

“Most of them just call me _'Inferno'_. If you’re searching for a bounty on me you should probably look for that.” He turned around in his seat.

“Inferno......huh,” he said, not asked. The Mandalorians head tilted down a bit and you realized that he had just now recognized the patch on your shoulder.

“Who’s your client?”

Your shoulders sagged. “I already told you. I work alone. I deflected shortly after the Battle of Endor.”

A hummed _“Interesting”_ , was the only response he offered. Finally, he readied for take-off and the razor crest lifted from Nevarros dry earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a bit shorter, I hope I can make up for it in the next one.


	5. A Smoke Made With The Fume Of Sighs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you wanted to kill me, you would have already done that. If you wanted to collect the -I'm assuming- generous prize on my head, we would’ve stayed on Nevarro. What are you going to do?"

Admittedly, it was a bit awkward.

Since the razor crest had taken off, the Mandalorian hadn’t spoken a single word to you, or...anything, really. He hadn’t even turned around to check on you, which was a bit irritating, too. Did he think you were no threat at all? The remaining two knives that were secured around your thigh were plain to see and yet he didn’t do anything. You had to give him some credit though, the way he’d bound your wrists was incredibly uncomfortable and impossible to free from.

You rolled your neck. Your hands tied together and stiff behind your back weren't helping the pain that your sore ribcage caused.

“Mando?” You finally asked, your voice scratchy and raw from boozing too much earlier. He didn’t react. Didn’t move at all. Was he asleep?

“Mando?” You tried again. “Do you, uh, have something to drink for me?”

The heavy silence that followed made you cringe, even more so when you realized that he was most definitely not asleep; His hands switching controls and piloting the ship. “Or maybe..” You cleared your throat. “..could you untie my hands? My wrists are getting _really_ sore.” Still no answer. This was getting ridiculous, you decided.

“Where are you taking me anyways? Why aren’t we staying on Nevarro? Isn’t Greef Carga there?” In one last attempt to make him talk, you kicked your feet up on the dashboard. “You know, Mando. I really can’t make a sense of you.”

“Take your feet from my dashboard.”

Ah, so it worked. His clipped tone didn’t reveal more than the fact that he was annoyed with you.

“What if I don’t, Mando? What are you going to do? If you wanted to kill me, you would have already done that. If you wanted to collect the -I'm assuming- _generous_ prize on my head, we would’ve stayed on Nevarro. What are you going to do, huh?”

The Mandalorian spun around in his seat. Eyeing you from head to toe, as if he was trying to decide if you were worthy of his voice or not. “Don’t get too excited, _Inferno_." He finally spoke. "I’m going to hand you over to someone willing to pay for you sooner or later. If cold or warm, I have yet to decide. I’ve just got a thing to do before I can return to Nevarro.”

An unsatisfying response; it didn’t soothe you. Now you were staring at the back of his helmeted head, yet again. If he really was planning on handing you over alive any time soon, you figured, you should try to get all the sleep you could. With a small wince, you leaned back in your seat, breathing deeply even though it hurt. Within seconds, you fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I can manage to upload another chapter tomorrow, sorry guys. Have a nice Weekend!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Character/Reader fic & English isn't my native language, so please don't be too hard on me.  
> Comments with wishes for future chapters would be cool :).


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